


Rust Upon Iron

by BeautifulSorairoDays



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Guilt!fic, M/M, SuperBat, low-key one of my biggest ships tho, not really explicitly superbat but yea, yeah i have no idea why i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:33:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulSorairoDays/pseuds/BeautifulSorairoDays
Summary: Just wanted to write a Superman guilt!fic :) I might write a second part, still debating.





	Rust Upon Iron

“ _Guilt upon the conscience, like rust upon iron, both defiles and consumes it, gnawing and creeping into it, as that does which at last eats out the very heart and substance of the metal.” - Robert South_

 

~

 

The man standing before him was broken.

It was there; in his eyes and in his shoulders. Smirched cobalt shadowed beneath wavy strands of sable. A lifeless sag that made him seem half his actual stock. What there had been of shining hope most days was gone, buried beneath a guilt so powerful it rocked Bruce to his very core. It terrified him.

Terrified him to uncover what had happened. Terrified him to see this man -this unbreakable man- so crushed. Terrified him to know that _he_ had come to _him_ at a time like this.

Why was he _here_?

Bruce couldn’t fathom.

Their friendship had always had more trust than any he usually allowed, and they had gifted each other with something Bruce seldom did. Their identities. Their truths. _Themselves_. Though it was still limited, it was there. Bruce was reclusive by nature, so it was expected, but Clark too had something to hold back. Truly, he was nearly as reclusive as Bruce when it counted. _Fortress of Solitude_. _The Cave_. Same purpose, different name. It made their relationship special, but even still...

Why had he come to Bruce?

“Clark…” Bruce finally addressed. Whether it was a greeting or a question… he didn’t know. There was no response. Clark Kent- or rather- Superman merely stayed floating in the high shadows of the cave, his face blank and his eyes distant. Bruce knew something must have happened. He didn’t know what. He’d been working solo and off-grid for a week.

He strode to his computer, his bare feet soundless on the floor. He had just gotten out of suit and showered, and now a pair of black sweats hung low on his hips and his chest exposed. A navy towel around his neck caught the droplets from his hair as he bent over to rouse the machine.

His throat constricted when his eyes drew in the scenes of destruction sprouted up from multiple windows.

‘EARTHQUAKE LEAVES METROPOLIS DEVASTATED, WHERE IS SUPERMAN?’

‘MAN OF STEEL ABSENT IN HOMETOWN’S TIME OF NEED’

‘8.1 MAGNITUDE KILLS HUNDREDS IN METROPOLIS, DID HE KNOW?’

‘BREAKING: DEATH COUNT ESTIMATED OVER 850’

The titles of the articles seemed to grow more and more accusatory as Bruce read. His face remained steeled, but his ice blue eyes were bright with disbelief. Then he noticed the dates. This had happened three days ago.

“Clark…” Bruce muttered again, his eyes widening for the first time as he turned, “what happe-”

He hadn’t heard Superman drift behind him, but when he saw the hollowed look painted across Clark’s features, Bruce quickly shut down the screen. Darkness blanketed them, and in the silence Bruce could barely hear Clark breathe from where he stood a mere foot from him.

“…Thank you.”

It was the first he’d spoken since Bruce had seen him.

“What happened?” Bruce tried again, voice still matter-of-fact but… a bit gentler this time. Clark simply stared at Bruce, their eyes meeting for the first time since he had returned. Now that Bruce had thought about it, how long had the man been there? Had he been waiting for him since the incident? Now wasn’t the time to think about it, but the notion settled in Bruce’s mind nonetheless. He waited for an answer but none came.

“Clark.”

Slowly, the man drifted to the floor, his feet touching soundlessly and his dulled eyes averting.

“It said on your computer.” His voice sounded unused and small, but hearing it made some of the tension leave Bruce. “I… was too late.”

He frowned, his concern there but unreadable.

“I’m asking _you_ what happened, Clark.”

This had the man’s gaze drifting back up. Bruce watched as Clark opened his mouth. Once, twice, then let it shut wordlessly. His eyes were so unguarded then, Bruce wasn’t prepared. This was a place he’d never seen Clark; a depth he’d never been. He was afraid he’d drown.

He couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine.

Clark watched the tremble silently and took a step forwards, bare… _something_ in his eyes. Bruce had to stop himself from taking a step back, his training and growing curiosity seemingly his only solid anchor.

Another step forwards.

“Clark-”

He froze when the man slowly came to stop in front of him and let his head sag into Bruce’s shoulder. This was foreign territory. Bruce could think of no way to handle this. Not in the slightest. Clark seemed to feel his insecurity, but instead of pulling away, he let more of his weight sag.

“Sorry,” he murmured against his shoulder, driving a shudder through Bruce he wasn’t expecting.

“…”

“It was me. I caused this.” The Kyrptonian’s voice was small, haggard. Bruce let his grip tighten. “I was so preoccupied with- with something so _stupid._ I didn’t… I wasn’t listening. I didn’t _hear_ them, Bruce.”

He didn't _hear_ them? 

Impossible.

Clark would never miss something like that. There must have been a reason Clark had been distracted; already Bruce was almost positive that Superman's error three days prior had not been of his own volition. He had probably been incapacitated in some way. Or drugged. The number of possibilities seemed endless in Bruce's mind. However, he could recognize now was not the time to discuss them.

He wasn't... really one for...  _comforting_ , but having Alfred and his kids had really taught him that sometimes that was exactly what a person needed. Regardless of how intimate and unfamiliar the situation had become, Bruce still knew that Clark was his friend, arguably his best one, and that friendship needed to mean something now more than ever. He cared for him, and there was no better time for him to show that then at this moment.

Breath tensing, Bruce hesitantly raised his hand up to Clark's head. His movements were tentative and slow, almost fearful as he gently pressed his fingers to the back of the Krypotonian's neck, then pushed them upwards to lace them with his thick dark hair. His other hand had also moved, coming up to fit snugly atop Clark's hip and settle at the curve of his spine, bringing the taller man closer in for a stiff hug. Clark had tensed at the first touch, but as soon as Bruce finished pulling their bodies in together, he relaxed and allowed himself to reach under Bruce's arms and hold him as well.

“I'm sorry, Clark.” Bruce finally whispered, his breath warm against Clark's neck. Clark said nothing. Bruce squeezed him tighter, his heart aching once more at Clark's pain. Tenderly, and quick so it wouldn't be questioned, Bruce pressed a kiss to the side of Clark's head.

It was moments later he felt hot tears splash against his collarbone as Clark shuddered. Bruce simply pressed himself in tighter, trying as much as he could to shoulder some of the man's burden. It was probably useless, he understood, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. If anyone in this world deserved the kind of torture the guilt of lives demanded, it wasn't this man, Bruce mourned.

It never should have been.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudo or comment if you feel like it :>


End file.
